The Law Is For The Breaking
by anatagasuki
Summary: One day, Midorima notices that Kise is burning out, and Kise notices that Midorima is limping. After hitting the showers post-practice, Midorima kisses Kise.
1. Day and Night

_Everything you are is everything I'm not_  
_Night and day, light and dark_

Kise is the light of the day. He likes girls, basketball, airplanes, and sweaty bodies under flashing lights. When he falls, he springs back up. He almost doesn't notice that he's shining a little less brighter each day, but he's smiling brighter and brighter nonetheless and it sure _fucking hurts_ at night.

Midorima is the dead of the night. He likes porn, basketball, trains, and lucky items. When he falls, he assesses the damage, adjusts his glasses, and stands back up. He almost doesn't notice that he's limping, but it sure _fucking hurts_ at night.

One day, Midorima notices that Kise is burning out, and Kise notices that Midorima is limping.

After hitting the showers post-practice, Midorima kisses Kise.

* * *

A/N: This started out as a oneshot, but somewhere along the way it became a series of drabbles. Don't despair, you are not alone—they make as much sense to me as they do to you.

The quotes which will be used throughout this fic is from Hate and Love by Jack Savoretti and Sienna Miller


	2. Line Dance

_You say that we're different  
I feel the same_

Kise scratches the back of his neck as he looks straight into Midorima's eyes. His stare is half-apologetic, half-_oh-well-that's-that_. "We're just too different," he says.

Midorima nods. He understands what Kise is trying to tell him. But that doesn't mean he agrees. Because really, how different is Kise's grin from Midorima's scowl? When long, bandaged fingers end in soft, manicured ones, when laughter ends in screams and pain twists into pleasure, does any of it matter? Aren't all the lines blurred…aren't the lines rendered _nonexistent at all_?

It bothers Midorima—the messy blending of colors, the strikethroughs across the rules. He doesn't like stepping out of the box, only pushing the walls farther apart. So maybe they're utter opposites. Midorima shrugs it off. After all, underneath blonde hair and dark green eyes and taut muscles and skin, they are one same madness. Midorima doesn't try telling Kise all this—he shows him.

And Kise _sees_.


	3. 4 Neat Corners

_You tell me you're leaving  
I'm here to stay_

"I'm going."

Kise's sunshine eyes flash wide open in realization, then slowly dim to Midorima's thunderstorm. His cotton candy smile disintegrates bit by sweet bit.

Because when Kise processes his stone-hard face, clenched fists and slightly trembling mouth, they both know that Midorima's not just skipping out to the nearby _combini_.

Midorima senses that his walls are about to collapse. He is addicted to a lot of things—order, Oha Asa, lucky items, Effexor, jellybeans. These things fit in the box. Kise is too ballistic and brilliant and beautiful to stay in there. So he's walking out the door.

What Kise knows—and Midorima is yet to—is that fear is as much self-destruction as it is self-preservation. He's confident that with his patent genius, the shooting guard will realize that. So he watches Midorima walk out the door.

The door shuts unceremoniously. For the first time in a very long time, Kise's mind is white noise-silent.

A/N:

To Pokopen: I think I may be mentally incapable of making the chapters longer. :))  
To Stephane Richer: Thanks for the kind words. I'm not sure exactly what effect this has, but if you think it's good that makes me happy (considering my sorry state of mind while writing this).  
To pSychedeliCoo: Ahhh! I shall beckon you to the light and dark side of Kiserime. Or MidoSe? Kisema? I don't really know which (*~*)


	4. Lucky Item

_My strength is your weakness  
My heart is own  
Your voice sprays my silence  
Then we're alone_

_Oha-Asa says that today's lucky item is an animal hairbrush._

A bright yellow dog-handled brush sits right on the bathroom sink. It has an effusively cheery face and wide, furry ears, as if longing for some petting from an indulgent master.

Midorima's bandaged fingers refuse to touch it. For the last two months, he can barely bring himself to step out of his studio apartment. Now, echoes of long-gone laughter and flashes of sunlight are driving him out with tsunami force. He shuts the door behind him.

His pounding heart wins against the pouring rain, the pouring rain wins against the soaking splash of a speeding car. He really should've taken that lucky item. Midorima looks at his hands, his piano-playing, half court-shooting, future surgeon's fingers, which should define his everything but doesn't anymore. He clenches them tight.

Midorima tips his head back and closes his eyes. His mouth barely opens for words swept by the winds.

"I'm lost."

Then the voice finds him. The headlights find him. The clear sunstones, the spun gold, the tanned flesh under the soaked suit find him. Midorima doesn't know how or why, but there is only one explanation whenever his genius brain fails to give him an answer: _'Man proposes, God disposes'_.

Who has proposed?

The car door is on his back and Kise's lips are on his and Midorima bursts out of the box and sets them in flames.


End file.
